When The Rain Starts To Fall
by clawswrites
Summary: What would happen if Brian had told Justin about the cancer? AU. Written for 2011 QAF Gift Exchange.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Prologue**

The clock ticked loudly, echoing the waiting room. It seemed to swarm the room, swelling and overwhelming, synchronizing with the nervous heartbeats. The hospital walls were white, sterile. If you stared at it for long enough, it was almost as if you could sink into the pure abyss, twisting and turning until you were lost, with no concept of what was north and what was south. It was so suffocating and did nothing to keep Justin's mind off the reason why they were there in the first place.

He clutched at Brian's hand tightly, and shifted his head to rest on his shoulder, nuzzling his exposed neck and breathing in the strong smell of designer cologne that he had dabbed on after his shower. He closed his eyes briefly. He was not sure why he felt like he needed the comfort that comes with physical contact, but the urge was too strong. Brian squeezed the hand in his and inclined his head on top of the blond mop, accepting the comfort the familiar smell of his fruity shampoo offered him. He needed it so much, probably more than he would admit to himself. This was it; there was no turning back now. A shot of fear rushed through him and he tightened his grip almost desperately.

"Um, Mr. Kinney?" the nurses' voice came from behind the reception desk, reading the clipboard and gazing out across the waiting room for a response.

Justin tensed at the name. He did not say anything but felt Brian look up to acknowledge the call of his name.

The nurse smiled encouragingly. "The Doctor will see you now. Room 14B."

He muttered a thank you before slowly and reluctantly untangling himself from the blond beside him, standing up straight. He breathed out heavily and glanced nervously to the blond. Brian knew he could not be in the room but he needed the support, the hope, the belief that everything would be okay.

Justin forced a smile. It was wide and strong, beaming and could pass as genuine. In the past few weeks, he had become an expert on making everyone believe nothing was wrong. The smile stayed in place, only faltering once the brunet man had disappeared from his view.

Tilting his head skyward, he prayed for the best.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><strong><span>Chapter 1<span>**

When Brian Kinney exited the hospital that afternoon, it was as if he was numbed to everything around him. He had retreated into himself for that moment of time and was all but lost to the outside world. The blood pounded in his ears, muffling the noise, and the new circled his head, repeating again and again like a chant.

_Cancer…_

He couldn't believe it. It just seemed so…unreal, so unexpected. Then again, it was not something that most people expect to happen to them. And to think, he probably wouldn't have noticed if it was not for that trick sucking his cock turning out to be a doctor. It was one of those strange twists of fate.

_…Cancer…_

The specialist he had just seen had told him he was lucky. Lucky because it had been caught early. "The cancerous cells haven't spread to the rest of your body," he had said. And they have to remove a testicle. Fuck.

_Cancer._

In one second all the energy left Brian in a hurry. He felt exhausted, like he could easily have curled up on the car park floor and slept as soundly as he would in his own bed. His legs seemed to struggle under his weight and he could feel angry, bitter tears stinging the back of his eyes. He felt…defeated. He was damaged, imperfect. It was as if all he had wanted to be, all he had worked to become had evaporated before his very eyes. All he wanted was to see that Sunshine smile and feel those arms around him, telling him everything would be okay.

But could he tell him? Could he really live with the knowledge that Justin may not want him anymore?

Getting into the corvette, his hands shaking as he fumbled with the car keys, he decided he did not care. For once in his life, he needed someone – needed Justin – to hold him, to be with him, to care about him. He would take the risk to feel that, even just for a fragment of time. Knowing he would not be able to get to Kinnetic that day, he turned in the direction of the loft, images of his blond - the only thing stopping him from caving under the shock of it all.

* * *

><p>As usual, Justin finished his lessons around lunch, so he was back at the loft by around two after walking the long way home. He was used to getting home to an empty place so he was surprised – and more than a little concerned – when Brian appeared before him and drew him into a hug. He returned the embrace hesitantly and felt the tension in his lover's body; sensed the desperateness as he clung to him.<p>

"Brian?" he started unsurely, his face showing his worry as he pulled back, only slightly, to see his lover's face. He looked tired, defeat even. "Brian, what's the matter?"

"…I was at the hospital today," he started.

Justin's eyes widened slightly. "The hospital? Why were you at the hospital?" he immediately began fretting, "Shit, did someone get hurt? Why didn't anyone call me? Who was it? Was it Gus? Is he okay? Tell me what happened!"

"It wasn't about Gus," Brian snapped, losing control of his temper for a moment. He sighed, shoulders slumping. "It was about me. I was at the hospital for myself…"

"Brian…" he trailed off. He licked his dry lips and struggled to calm his erratic heartbeat. "What's wrong? Is it…is it serious?"

"Yeah…it's serious," Brian closed his eyes as he struggled with the right words. His mind was a mess with anything, but the strong grip of his partner's hands on his hips succeeded in grounding him. "I have ca…"

The word caught in his throat and he choked out pathetic sobs before he managed to say it out loud. "C-cancer. I have…cancer."

A deafening silence smouldered the loft.

"W-wha…?" Justin stuttered, his stomach dropping out from beneath him, leaving in its place this horribly sickening feeling that was slowing rising upward. He didn't want to believe it was true – wanted to believe it was someone's idea of a ghastly joke because he just wanted to see the expression on his face – but one look at the serious look on his face, one so filled with his angst and pain, told him otherwise. "Where is it?" he whispered.

"Does it matter?" Brian snapped defensively.

"Where is it Brian?" he demanded. He felt the man start to pull away from him and tightened his grip on the clothes, narrowing his gaze and repeated the question one more time.

Brian laxed against him and, after a moment, spoke softly: "Testicular…"

"Testicular…" he repeated slowly.

"Apparently, I'm lucky because it was caught before it began to spread," Brian continued instantly, filling the silence quickly. He began to pace nervously, "He said I would have to have an operation so the cancerous cells can be removed and I would have to undergo at least six weeks of chemo radiation to make sure the cancer was gone, if I chose to accept it…"

Justin, who seemed to be in a kind of trance, mind spinning with the terrifying announcement that just faced him, snapped out of it as he listened to the last six words. His eyes narrowed almost dangerously on the older brunet. "What do you mean 'if'?"

Brian paused in his step and gave the blond a confused look. "If?"

"Yes, if. If _you accept the treatment_?" he snapped "There's no ifs, ands, or buts about this Brian. You're having the fucking treatment – what the fuck would make you think otherwise?"

Brian swallowed and his voice dropped into an almost pathetic, self-pitying whisper: "They're going to cut out my ball Sunshine…"

"So?" Justin questioned viciously, "It's your fucking ball Brian. Get you're priorities straight. You could die from this – its cancer, it spreads! The doctors are offering you help and you're _thinking about it_?" He sighed and took in a calming breath. The tension slowly left his body. He wrapped his arms around the body tightly, pressing his face into Brian's shoulder for comfort, "You're going to have the treatment, and you're going to survive this, just like everything else, with or without a ball. You have people who need you here…and I can't lose you, I love you…"

After a moments hesitation as the words sank in, Brian returned the embrace. He wished he could say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. Half afraid of what he would have said, he instead resorted to holding onto the lithe form, like he was the only thing keeping him alive. Although the younger blond had said those three words before, at this moment in time it meant more to him than ever before.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

As usual the gang had regrouped at the Liberty Diner for breakfast that morning. Brian and Justin arrived earlier than usual, much to the surprise of Michael, Ted and Emmett, who came into the building to find the two in their normal booth, making out like a couple of teenagers who have been left alone in a house for a couple of hours. They had reluctantly stopped once they had arrived but Brian still kept his arm thrown over Justin's shoulder so the blond was nestled comfortable in the crook of his arm. Lindsey and Gus joined them a few minutes later. Apparently, Mel had to leave early for work and Gus had wanted to see his daddy. Even if he didn't say it, Justin knew that meant a lot to the brunet. The congregating of the group turned out to be time perfectly, giving them the opportunity to announce their plans for the week ahead. That week was the period of time that Brian (and Justin, since he insisted he be there) was supposed to be checked into hospital for his surgery. Brian had been adamant that no one else would know about the cancer, so they needed some kind of excuse that would put a stop to any questions being asked or someone trying to find them. Justin, as it happened, had a brilliant idea.

"Ibiza?" Michael repeated almost ludicrously.

Justin hummed in agreement. "Yeah, Ibiza; we both decided we wanted a holiday, a break from Pittsburgh."

"Hot weather, hot beaches, hot guys," Brian smirked.

"It'll only be for a week," Justin assured.

"Think you can cope without us?" he teased, amused by the scowl and roll of eyes he received in response from his best friend.

"When are you leaving?" Lindsey questioned, turning away from wiping Gus' messy face for a moment.

"Tonight; its short notice but the flight leaving tonight were the only ones we could get this time of year," Brian explained. He turned to Ted with a more serious look, "I spoke to Cynthia last night. You both are in charge of Kinnetic while I'm gone – don't fuck it up."

"That's exactly what I plan on doing Bri," Ted stated sarcastically, as he stood up from his place. He stuffed the last portion of his meal – a side of toast – into his mouth and clapped Brian on the shoulder. "Have a good trip Brian, Justin, see you when you get back."

Lindsey sighed. "We should go too. I've got to get Gus to day care before I go to work – I have to open up the gallery today." She smiled down at her son, "Say goodbye to Daddy and Justin Gussie."

The four-year-old wriggled off his seat and practically threw himself at his father. Brian just about managed to untangle his arm from around Justin's shoulders to catch the boy before he injured them both. Gus giggled happily, bringing a smile to his father's face. He wrapped his little arms around Brian's neck tightly.

"Goodbye Daddy," he declared loudly.

"Goodbye Sonny boy," Brian whispered, suddenly feeling rather choked up.

Gus shifted out of his father's grip and onto Justin's lap. He repeated the process, clutching at his neck tightly and stating his farewell loudly and clearly. Brian watched the two together and his smile became easier.

* * *

><p>Brian placed his duffel bag, packed for the week ahead, on the freshly made hospital bed and gazed around the room that would be his, at least for the time being. It was empty, bare except for a bed, a table and a framed painting of a generic landscape that was pretty much the only source of colour in the sterile place. His face remained expressionless, not giving away the distress he was feeling although, judging by the worried look he was receiving, he was certain Justin could see through his charade.<p>

"It's on temporary," the blond assured, "And its not too bad – you've got your own room unlike some people, and I spoke to that nurse that lead us here while you were talking to the doctor. She agreed to bring a cot in here so I can stay with you during the recovery period. Her name's Connie. She was really nice actually, understanding of the situation a-and helpful – she said to go to her if either of us need anything while we're here so –"

Brian cut off the blond's increasingly more panicked rambling with an unexpected and forceful kiss. He felt the body tense against his in surprise before it melted into his hold. Brian couldn't deny, he loved how easily the blond moved with him like that. He had long ago realised the effect that one kiss could have on the blond and used it many and often to his own advantage. He doubted he would ever admit that the specific reason for that kiss was more for his personal comfort than for his partners.

Brian pulled away slightly, resting their foreheads together, and smirked with self satisfaction when he saw the glassy-eyed look that was currently covering his partner's young face. Justin blinked a few times, clearing his lust-induced haze, and seemed to sway towards the brunet. He clung to the fabric that was stretched across his muscled upper arms and nuzzled his face into the revealed skin between his collarbones.

"Everything's going to be okay, Brian," he whispered, his voice conveying every emotion he was possessed with at that moment; all the fear, the pain and the hope, exposed in six words. Brian grasped at those words tightly, desperate to believe with every part of him that they were true.

Over the blond's shoulder, he saw Connie, holding a bundle of blue cloth in her arms, appear in the doorway and arched an eyebrow in answer. She smiled pleasantly at him, and seemed not to react to the embrace the two men held each other in. Brian had a hard time deciding whether it was professionalism or true feelings but decided neither mattered at the moment. Unable to speak, he nodded his head towards her in greeting. She stepped just past the doorway into the room.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. Kinney, but I've been told to bring you a gown for you to change in to. Doctor Phillips wants to start prepping for surgery as soon as possible so you can get started on your recovery process."

Justin stepped back, averting his gaze to hide the tears that had welled up in his eyes. He sniffed loudly and rubbed furiously at his eyes with the palms of his hands. Brian watched the blond for a moment before accepting the disgusting clothing from the woman, muttering a thank you. Connie glanced worriedly at the younger blond, reaching out hesitantly to touch his arm.

"Sir, are you okay?" she questioned.

Justin let out a dry laugh. "Um, y-yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for asking."

Connie didn't seem to believe him for a second and offered him a sympathic look. "It's natural for the partner to be just as worried about the whole illness as the patient; it's nothing to be ashamed about. I've seen more than enough crying family members – been a few of them – so I understand, but you really shouldn't worry. I've seen Mr. Kinney's file. He's always been at the top of the health chart, with every little sickness, and the cancer was found in one of the earliest stages. He'll survive this surgery without a doubt and will soon enough be back to man you know and love," She told him confidently. She turned back to Brian briefly, "Just press the call button when you're changed and comfortable to begin. Someone will then come in and take you to theatre."

Brian nodded. "Understood, thank you."

Justin smiled watery. "Yeah, thank you Connie."

She beamed at them before turning to leave the room.

There was a period of silence where both men stared at each other, silently and deeply. Brian finally cracked a smile. "You heard her Sunshine; I'm going to be fine. So why don't you join me in the bathroom for a little pre-op preparation?"

Unable to help it, Justin burst out in a fit of laughter, grateful for the lighter mood change that was distracting him momentarily from his concern.

Brian carefully laid down on the bed, stretching out across the single bed. He glanced to his right where Justin was standing. The man tried to smile back but it came out strained. He grasped the larger, tanned hand tightly, as if it was the last and only thing to remind him of his lover. Brian reached out and covered their hands with his free one.

"I'll be okay," he promised quietly.

Justin sniffed quietly and nodded furiously, determined.

He squeezed their hands together one last time. He hesitated for a moment. He took a deep breath to prepare himself, before raising his hand to reach behind him. Fumbling with the cord, he pressed the call button firmly.

He was ready.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

Justin ran a hand through his hair for the hundredth time that hour and glanced once more at the clock. It seemed to be mocking him, telling him that very little time had passed even though, to him, it felt like an eternity of waiting. His legs began to jump in an erratic pulse. His hands twitched as he reached to clasp them together, wringing at them roughly. He chewed it his bottom lip. He just couldn't sit still. He had tried, tried to stay calm but his nerves were too strung for anything of the sort.

It felt like days, which was actually hours, since Brian had been wheeled out of the private room to head to theatre; somewhere Justin was unauthorized to accompany him. He hated the thought that Brian was somewhere, unconscious, at the mercy of a totally stranger, and he could do nothing at all to help – even though that stranger was actually a trained professional and could possibly save Brian's life. He wanted to voice his concern of the situation but chose to stay silent, deciding that Brian would need him to be strong. He could only guess how much of this death talk the brunet could take, especially so soon after Vic's death, whom he knew was an important father figure in his partner's life. So instead, he had held onto the man's hand, saying and doing nothing except offering an occasional smile of assurance when those hazel eyes fell on his. He had half expected for Brian to complain about how he was being treated, but he didn't. In fact, Justin was pretty sure the man had clung to his hand just as much as was.

Justin had circled the small room about six times, listening to his deep breathing and the steady clomping of footsteps against the lino flooring. He would trail his hands across the walls, the furniture, the bed lining, just to feel the texture beneath his finger tips. He found it was a great distraction. He had admired the crappy landscape painting that he thought he remembered from his own stay in hospital not two years before, and contemplated whether this one picture was mass produced specially to be placed in these hospital rooms. But soon, he had nothing left to do, no excuse, and was left, defenceless, to his thoughts.

_Why did this have to happen, now of all times, and to Brian of all people._ Everything seemed as if it was falling into place between the two of them. Although they weren't monogamous like he would never admit he wanted, they had compromised at the least. This was probably the best time he had ever had with Brian in his life, apart from their 'honeymoon stage' as Daphne had called it when they got back together after the whole Ethan fiasco and had been drawn closer over their vigilante attempts at destroying Stockwell's campaign. He had, foolishly, thought that maybe everything would be alright between them now, but then things started to go wrong. Vic had died from heart failure suddenly, leaving them all in shock and lost at what to do, what to say, and then this news. Justin's mind was reeling from it all. He had lost too many people; he didn't want to lose Brian too. He had heard about so many people who had suffered with cancer – some who had suffered and those who weren't so lucky. His grandmother was one of those who had managed to fight the disease for longer than any doctor expected.

He hoped that Brian was the same.

He was grateful though, so very grateful. He knew the man he loved well. He was emotionally closed-off; would do anything to protect him self and nothing to face the issues in his past. It would have been easy for him to go through his by himself – he had done it some many times before, he would have been used to it – and pretend that nothing was wrong; to not allow anyone to find out. Fuck, he still didn't want anyone to know...but Brian had told him. He had _willingly_ told him, and Justin had only just realised how much that meant. He doubted that Brian would never tell him those three special words but he didn't need them, at least he didn't at the moment, because the moments when it was really important, Brian did all he could. He protected him, whether it emotionally or financially, by whatever means he had. He chose to tell him about the most important thing in his life, something he was no doubt terrified about. Not his best friend, but him – the trick-turned-stalker-turned-fuck buddy-turned-partner.

If he closed his eyes, Justin could remember how Brian had looked before he broke the news. He looked…broken, tired, defeated, like his world was crashing around him. When he held onto him, it was as if just holding the blond in his arms was enough to keep him from breaking down, to feel safe and protected. A small smile came to his face at the thought. Brian needed him, loved him, even if he wouldn't admit it, and Justin would be damn sure to prove he was worthy of those feelings.

_If he's around for you to do that…_ a dark voice taunted him at the back of his mind.

Justin frowned deeply and shook his head to rid himself of the thought. _No, Brian will be fine, he will, he'll be fine_, he told himself furiously, determined, desperate.

"…_Please_," he breathed out.

All too quickly, the silence in the room was deafening, suffocating. His hands twitched and his stomach rolled. He licked his lips but his mouth was too dry to make much of a difference. Standing up quickly, he left the confined room, moving purposefully through the busy corridors towards the main entrance of the hospital.

He _really_ needed a cigarette.

* * *

><p>"Why didn't you tell me you and Brian are going to Ibiza tonight?" Jennifer demanded an answer, "I had to find out through Debbie. I was almost embarrassed. I know you're getting older and can make your own decisions without running through your mother first, but you can't just leave the country and not tell me!"<p>

Justin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stay calm. He had been standing a few metres away from the automatic doors, clutching at the cigarette tightly as he tried to gather his thoughts and emotions before he returned to that private room once more. It had worked for a time – the soft breeze that told the population it would be spring soon, caressing his skin and helping to slow down his flow of blood – but then he had reached the call. To be honest, the thought hadn't even occurred to him to tell his mother the tale they had spun to explain their disappearance. He had been so caught up in making sure that none of the gang found out the reason they wouldn't be around, he had momentarily forgot that he had other people who would be worried about him. Although he understood his mother's annoyance and worry, at that moment in time, he just wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with her.

"I don't have fucking time for this right now!" he snapped angrily.

"Justin, watch your language," Jennifer scolded instantly. There was a moment of pause as she listened to the heavy, hitched breathing through the speaker. A feeling of concern filled her. "Justin, what's happened?"

Justin felt his body lax in defeat at the question his mother put towards him. He shouldn't have let his emotions get the better of him. His mom had been able to tell when something was wrong ever since he was a child. Apparently, it was something in the way he held himself, how he sounded, how he acted. He didn't know what to say, so he stayed silent, biting his bottom lip worriedly.

"Justin." She stated, her voice taking on an ordering tone, "Tell me what's happened."

"…Brian has cancer," he whispered pathetically, feeling tears come to his eyes. He rubbed them away quickly with his forearm.

There was a stunned pause. "…C-cancer? Oh my god, Justin…is he okay? Where is he? Is that why you two decided to go to Ibiza on such short notice?"

"…We're not in Ibiza. We…that was a lie that we told so the gang wouldn't worry when Brian had to stay in hospital for a week after his treatment. I didn't have to stay with him, but I wanted to…" he stopped for a moment, swallowing, "He's, um, he's in surgery now a-and I'm waiting and, god, mom, I don't know what to do…"

"Shh, sweetie, don't cry," Jennifer spoke soothingly, "It'll be fine. Brian's a strong man, he'll get through this, but you have to believe in him. He'll need you to be there for him, to give him something to fight for…at least that's what granny told me had kept her going." There was a moment of silence and her voice dropped considerably, "What did the doctor say?"

"That they, um, they caught it early so apparently he is more likely to get through this with a clean bill of health, but they don't know for certain," Justin cleared his throat as he croaked up, "He's in surgery now to remove the cancerous cells and I just…I couldn't…I didn't know what to do."

"Keep your stomach settled; keep drinking fluids and keep yourself busy, um, do some sketches," Jennifer instructed after a second of thought, "Try and stay calm and before you know it, Brian will be out of recovery and back to being his usual self."

"God help me," Justin teased half-heartedly, feeling all the more grateful for his mother's presence. She always knew what to say, to do to make him feel better. It was something he loved about her and always felt guilty that Brian could not experience the same thing with his own mother. But he had Debbie, who was enough of a mother of the world to compensate.

"You'll tell me if _anything_ happens?" Jennifer offered encouragingly.

"Yeah…yeah, I promise. Oh and Mom?" he continued before she could hang up, "Could you, maybe, not tell anybody about this? Only Brian doesn't want anyone to know – that was kind of the reason for the Ibiza story – I shouldn't even have told you so…"

"Don't worry honey, I won't tell a soul," she promised.

Justin breathed a small sigh of relief and took another drag of the cigarette before dropping it to the concrete and putting it out with the sole of his trainers. He could do this. He _would_ do this, just like his mom had said. And he would because _Brian needed him_. That was reason enough.

* * *

><p>"Um, Mr. Taylor?"<p>

Justin looked up from his sketch book at the sound of his name. As he had been told, he went to the canteen and had a sub sandwich and a refillable cup of coca-cola, before returning to the private room, curling up on the particularly stiff mattress, and beginning to sketch. Of course, it had ended up as a very detailed image of his favourite model. He had managed to capture the vulnerableness in his beautiful eyes as he was stood in the loft, waiting to pass on the bad news. It seemed to have killed a lot of the time he thought he would have spent either in a panic or lost in his own melancholy thoughts, and soon enough Dr. Phillips was standing in the doorway. He held a clipboard to his chest and looked at the blond expectantly.

Justin scrambled to his feet, leaving the sketch pad and pencils on the bed, and approached the doctor eagerly. "Yes, yes, I'm Mr. Taylor. How's Brian?"

"He's fine, Mr. Taylor," Doctor Phillips assured, smiling when he saw the relief that coursed through the young man's body. He was happy he could bring such good news. "The surgery was a success – no complications or issues with either stage of the process. Brian is in recovery at the moment where, sadly, visitors are not permitted. Once the anaesthesia wears off and he starts to come around, Brian will be brought back to this room for the remainder of his time here."

"And how long will take?"

"A couple of hours give or take, it varies from person to person," the doctor offered. He glanced down at the clipboard quickly. "I would like to talk to you about the chemo treatment Brian will undergo for the next couple of weeks. Usually it's the patient to tell their families about what will happen, as we're not allowed to break confidence with details of a patient's health. However, Brian has given me permission to run through some aspects with you, so you know what to expect. I assume he wants you to know so you can both get through his difficult ordeal and I am more than happy to oblige."

Justin nodded understandingly, managing to keep the happiness that Brian wants them to get through this _together_ off his face, at least for the time being. He stepped back and gestured into the room. "Would you like to sit down?"

"It would probably be much more comfortable, thank you," Doctor Phillips agreed. He sat on the chair that had been left by the bedside, instantly turning to examine his notes that rested in his lap. Justin watched the doctor closely, waiting, as he perched himself on the edge of the bed.

"Well, first things first, I should probably explain the treatment…"


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

Brian awoke with a start, lurching forward in the bed. He was covered in a layer of sweat and panting heavily. For a moment, he forgot where he was and a sense of panic filled him. The sound of a squeaky trolley being wheeled along outside the room, and the shadow the nurse cased, reminded him what had happened over the last 24 hours. Automatically, his hand drifted below the covers to cup his testicles. They felt the same as before, like nothing had happened. He knew that was a fucking lie. Something had happened, and now he had a plastic fucking ball to replace the poisoned one. Instantly, the reason he had woken so suddenly came flooding back to him: nightmares.

"_You're no longer prefect Brian, just like me…"_

He shook his head furiously to try and escape the mocking voice that echoed around his head. Desperate to distract himself, Brian found his eyes drawn to the figure to his right. Justin was fast asleep, slumped forward in the chair so he was rested on the mattress, right next to Brian's thigh. One hand hung loosely onto the fabric of his shirt whilst the other curled in front of his face. In his sleep, Justin looked so peaceful, so innocent as if none of the horrors and disappointments had faced even existed. He was so vulnerable in this state that, for a moment or so, it was as if he had travelled back in time and was, once again, that seventeen year old that he had seen beneath that lamppost.

Except he wasn't seventeen anymore, and this wasn't Babylon. He had faced so much danger, so much darkness since they had met, that he wasn't the same little kid he had met back then. And now the blond was going through this with him.

"_Why would Justin stay now that you're not perfect?"_

Brian frowned deeply at the thought. It was a good question, _why would Justin stay?_ All he had was his invincibility – at least, that the invincibility he convinced others that he had. But now, that illusion was over, at least between the blond and himself. _What possible reason could Justin have for wanting to say now that he knows I have fucking cancer?_ Pity, was his first guess, for the old sick man; a one-ball wonder. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense to him. He knew that Justin had told him enough times that he loved him – he should know, he had shut him down each time, out of instinct more than anything else – but how could he still love him, now that Brian was sick? Justin was young, beautiful, could have anyone he wanted. He deserved to have someone who could love him back, be able to say it and offer him everything he ought to have in life. He deserves better than a disease ridden old man.

"_Why would Justin stay now that you're not prefect?"_

Stubbornly, Brian averted his gaze from the serene sight like it was painful. Silently, he told himself he would let Justin go. That he wouldn't be as dependent on him as he already felt like he was becoming. A small part of him told him it was already too late. He was attached. He would have no idea how he could cope without the blond in his life, especially not now. He remembered how he nearly fell apart when Justin had left with that fucking fiddler, and knew he could not do it again – it could destroy him. It was selfish of him but he found that he didn't care. It was something he had never felt before; he had no idea how to deal with this now that his normal defence mechanisms were null-in-void.

Brian felt the lithe body shift beside him, a small moan escaping those rosy lips announcing that he was waking up. He didn't look his way but felt the arm stretch across his thigh, the artist's fingers brushing across the taunt flesh as they curled slightly. Brian tried to keep his gaze away, to be strong, but he found the pull too strong to resist. He locked his, he hoped, neutral gaze with the sleep hazed, blue eyes and couldn't stop himself from offering a small smile in return of the sleepy grin. He wanted to say something but had no idea what to.

"Hey…you're up…" he mumbled, yawning, sitting up straighter in his chair and muzzling up his long blond hair. He eyed him curiously, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm having a ball," Brian commented dryly. He glanced around the private room, and furrowed his eyebrows in thought, "When was I brought back here?"

"Um, around six I think. When Doctor Phillips brought you back in once you'd woken up in recovery, but you fell asleep again before you got here," Justin explained, "I was nervous at first but apparently, it's normal. Connie brought in food a couple of hours ago for us before but I didn't want to wake you up. You looked peaceful." He shrugged in an attempt to act indifferent. He inclined his head slightly, "Do you want something to eat now? Connie said it's essential you eat, and it looks good," he paused for a moment, "well, as good as hospital food can be, I suppose."

Although he was feeling uncharacteristically hungry, Brian shook his head in refusal. Justin didn't seem to believe him because he grabbed one of the plastic wrapped sandwiches that had been piled on the wooden tray and dropped one in Brian's lap, stating that it was "Chicken Mayo, your favourite". Brian glared down at the offending food in his lap for a moment before turning his attention to Justin, who was standing at the edge of the bed and nibbling on a digestive biscuit that was part of the combination of foods.

"I said I wasn't hungry," Brian stated through gritted teeth.

"Brian, you've just come out of surgery and the professionals have told me that it's important for you to eat," Justin retorted back, keeping his voice almost patronizingly calm, "So you're going to eat something. Do you need me to feed you?"

Furiously, Brian threw the sandwich across the room. It whistled through the air and landed with a firm thud against the glass window, the force of the throw across the material to shake a little, before dropping to the ground. "Fuck Justin, I'm a fucking baby! I know when I'm fucking hungry or not!"

"I'm only trying to fucking help your ungrateful ass!" Justin snapped back, "I don't know why I bother! You always act like a fucking prick anyways!"

"Then why are you still here?" Brian questioned angrily, "I don't need you're fucking pity or help! I can take care of myself!"

Justin stared back at the man silently, his face expressionless in a way that unnerved Brian to the point where he was shifting awkwardly in his place, his chest heaving with his harsh intake of breath. He tried to keep his gaze firmly locked in his anger, in his determination that he could do this alone, but soon found himself wavering under those intense oceanic orbs that almost appeared as if he could see right through him, to his true intentions. "You're trying to push me down Mount Kinney again," Justin commented quietly.

He made his way across the room, feeling Brian's concentrated gaze on his back with every step he made, and bent down to pick up the sandwich that had been used as a projectile. He examined it closely, determining it would be safe to eat although it was a little squished and parts of the plastics had been ripped. He placed it once again on Brian's lap. "Eat it, please," he ordered softly, like he was dealing with a wild animal.

One hand move to run through Brian's hair, massaging the scalp slightly. "I don't know why you're suddenly doing this now. I don't understand why would trust me enough with something this big, something this personal, and then want me to disappear again. I'm sure it has something to do with being Brian Fucking Kinney because somehow it always ends up like that, so I'm going to be reasonable and patient with you, like always. I won't push you to tell me, but know this: whether you believe it or not, I love you and I wouldn't want to be any where else but here, with you, helping you through this ordeal."

He paused for a moment, examining the neutral expression on Brian's face for any hint of change, "I want to be here Brian and even if you push me away like you did before, it won't make a difference this time. You see, the bashing had affected my Kinney Reading Manual. I couldn't read you, couldn't read between the lines, but its different now. You want me here, I know you do. So push me away all you want because as long as there is breath in my body, I'm going to be right beside you. I wouldn't waste my energy on fighting the evadible. Now eat the fucking sandwich."

Brian stared up at Justin, and was once again shocked by how well the blond knew him. He wanted to fight him, to resist him and push him away, like he had said, but sadly he knew it was hopeless. He had been the worst partner, lover, whatever, to that kid and he always came back, no matter how long it took him. He supposed it was something he had gotten used to. Lowering his gaze, he began to carefully unravel the plastic cover of the food. He took a small bite of it, and heard his stomach rumble in a desperate plead for more. He didn't need to look up to see Justin's smug look.


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

"Are you sure you'll be okay to go into work today?" Justin repeated the question for the thousandth time that morning.

The corvette was parked outside the Pittsburgh Institution of Fine Arts that morning. Brian had offered to give Justin a lift to the art school on his way to work, something the blond wasn't overly happy about. It had been only a few days since they had check out of the hospital, after the surgery and first chemo therapy session, and both men had spent the days that followed hidden from the world in their large, comfortable bed. Brian had been sick, barely able to move the whole time. He had only just managed to get out of bed for anything other than to use the toilet the day before, and the brunet had been determined to go into work on that Tuesday morning. Justin had argued of course, but there wasn't much he could once Brian Kinney set his mind to something – that didn't stop him worrying though.

Brian breathed out heavily through his nose with annoyance. "Yes Justin, I will be fine. Besides, I'm only going in for a couple of hours to make sure that Ted and Cynthia haven't fucked anything up. I'll be back at the loft before you are."

"No you won't," Justin responded knowingly, "You'll personally take over some duty that you don't actually have to do, and we both know that – but fine, if you're sure." He lent over to press a long, lingering kiss against his moist lips in goodbye, "Call me when you realise I'm right."

He grinned cheekily and climbed out of the car before Brian could retort some brilliant and witty comment.

* * *

><p>"Brian?"<p>

Ted pushed open the glass door that led to Brian's office with his foot, his gaze firmly attached to the folders, the top one laid open, in his hands. Not much had happened over the week the boss had been gone, but there was still a few financial matters that needed to be addressed, agreed upon and signed before new accounts could be opened or a magazine would be able to print their work for the next issue in print. Nothing serious but still. He received no reply to his call, something unusual in his experience with the brunet, and lowered the papers slightly to peer around the interior of the room. He called out again and stepped closer into the office.

Brian was curled up on the expensive, white, leather sofa he had insisted be put in the spacious office. His Armani suit was slightly ruffled from how he was laying, his shoes resting on the smooth fabric (something that Brian would definitely not allow). His face was covered by an A3 folder – probably containing the prints and sketches for their newest account, Ted guessed – and his hands were rested almost protectively over his lower stomach, like he was in pain.

Curiously, he tilted his head. "…Brian?"

The body seemed to jerk forward, surprised by the sudden voice. His feet dropped to the floor and the folder was pulled away from his face so Brian could stare up him sort of awkwardly. He sat up slowly, unable to keep the expression of pain off his face, and held the folder protectively to his chest. He reluctantly reached out to put it on the glass coffee table before returning to his hunched over position.

"Jesus Christ, what's wrong?" Ted questioned concerned.

Brian shook his head and muttered a weak "nothing" that was everything but convincing. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, for one thing, you look like shit," Ted commented bluntly.

"Thank you Theodore," he smiled slightly before turning back to the folder on the table in front of him. He tried to look busy, in the hopes that the other man would realise he wanted to be left alone, but of course, they didn't happen. The piles of paper that Ted was carrying were placed on the edge of the coffee table before he took a seat on the cushion next to him. Brian felt him staring and suppressed a groan.

"Now, this is the second time this has happened…"

"Fucking accountants have to keep a record of everything," he cured under his breath, stubbornly refusing to look up.

"I just want you to know that you can trust me," Ted continued, as if Brian hadn't interrupted at all, "As a friend and as someone who has been through it all. I mean, there is nothing I haven't seen or done, which is why I don't presume to judge anyone. But one thing I do know: the first and hardest thing you'll have to do is telling yourself you have a problem and once you've done that you're on the road to recovery…"

Brian scoffed; slightly amused by the fact the man beside him thought he was a drug addict. _Oh no, Theodore, this is something a whole lot worse that can't be changed or fixed…_ he cut off Ted's informed speech, glancing his way and averting his gaze quickly. "It's the big C, Ted."

Ted looked at him with a mixture of sympathy, pain and support. "Cocaine?"

Brian laughed slightly, before rolling his lips. "It's bigger."

"Crystal?"

"Bigger."

He looked confused for a moment. "Caffeine?"

Brian had finally had enough of this guessing game, the pain in his lower abdomen causing his already rather short fuse to be cut even more. "It's cancer, Theodore."

Ted looked at his boss and friend with wide eyes, trying to wrap his head around the announcement. It just seemed…impossible. He stuttered over the word nervously, seeming to only be able to get the first letter out.

"Relax; they got it," Brian continued lowly, "I'm on radiation. Had my first treatment on Friday and I've been worse than this all weekend." He paused for a moment as that nauseous feeling returned, "Now if you'll excuse me…"

He quickly made his way to the en suite that was attached to his office, speeding up towards the end when the feeling got worse, and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He didn't even know you could puke up something when you haven't eaten anything between now and the time before. Flushing the toilet, he carefully made his way out of the bathroom and accepted the drink of water that Ted offered him.

"I can't tell you how relieved I am," Ted finally spoke, "I mean, that you're going to be alright."

Brian finished the glass, unsuccessful in washing away the taste of sick from his mouth, before replying. "Thank you."

He returned back to his seat on the sofa, resting the side of his head against the soft pillows and closing his eyes briefly as he breathed heavily through the uncomfortably pain that followed. His head was swimming and he wished he was back in his bed again. He should never have gotten out from underneath the Egyptian cotton sheets that morning. Justin was right.

"Is there anything I can do?" Ted offered feeling at a complete lost.

"As a matter of fact, there is," Brian answered, keeping his eyes closed, "You can do three things. First, keep your big mouth shut or you're fired."

"Sealing, sealing," Ted repeated the word, miming the action of zipping his mouth closed. He continued to stare at his boss for the next request, "Second?"

"I want you to cover for me this afternoon with Dandy Lube."

"C-cover for y-you?"

"Make the presentation," Brian elaborated. Ted stammered an objection, "Look if you can pretend to be Pavarotti at that pathetic pasta palace, you can do this."

"…What's the third?"

"Call Justin and tell him…he was right. I'm going home." He finished with much reluctance. He was so going to regret admitting that, he just knew it.

* * *

><p>"Justin?"<p>

"Ted? Hey, is something wrong?"

"Brian asked me to call you and say, um, you were right…"

"I told him to stay in bed today…"

"So you know about the-"

"Yeah, I know. Don't worry; I'm taking care of him – when he lets me at least. Okay, tell him I'm going to get a cab over and I'll drive the corvette home."

"I'll let him know, thanks," a pause, "Justin…?"

"Hmm?"

"…Will he be okay? I mean, he said he was fine but, we both know how he is when it comes to people worrying about him."

"…Yeah Ted, he'll be okay…"


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

Michael opened the door to an empty loft. He peered around curiously, wondering where Brian would be at this time of day if not at the office (he had already called to check there). He debated waiting for his friend to return from wherever he was. He needed advice over what to do about Rage. Both Justin and Michael had heard the pitch from a Hollywood Producer about making Rage into a movie. The problem was one of the creators would need to travel to LA. With the comic book store to worry about, he had hoped that Justin would agree – after all, it was the experience of a lifetime – but the blond artist had refused, saying he couldn't leave at that period of time. He had tried to convince Justin to accept the deal but was unsuccessful. He was hoping that Brian would be able to convince him to change his mind. Deciding to stay, at least for a little longer in case the brunet showed up, Michael dropped into place on one of the chairs – cheap copies of the original designers, he guessed – and tapped his foot in an attempt to entertain himself as he waited.

He gazed around the loft with great interest, realising he hadn't actually been to the building in a long time – at least, before Brian had used practically every piece of money he owned on stopping his ex-client, Jim Stockwell from becoming Major. The spacious place looked so much different without the designer interior decoration that had reflected Brian's character for so long. The blue flashing of the answering machine caught is eye. He tilted his head. It was very rarely that Brian received a voicemail that he didn't delete automatically after the first couple of seconds of it being there. He assumed it was because the man had been out when the call came in, which meant it was probably the message he had left only an hour before to let him know he was on his way over at lunch to talk to him – he had left the message on both his house phone and his mobile.

Thinking nothing of it, he clicked the button that replayed the voicemail messages.

'_**You have two messages. Message one…'**_

"_Hey Brian, it's me Michael. I know Justin's probably told you all about how Hollywood wants to turn Rage into a movie, but we have an issue one of us needs to be in LA with them while they pitch the idea to the production company or something. I was hoping maybe we could talk about what should happen – maybe you can persuade Justin to go, I don't know. Anyways, I'm on my way over to the loft and I'll see you when I get there._"

Michael smiled in amusement at how strange his voice sounded on recording.

'_**Message two…'**_

Quickly, he moved to stop the message. He didn't need to hear Brian's private messages but he couldn't. After the first part of the sentence, he froze, shocked and scared, and could do nothing other than listen to the gravelled voice that echoed around the room.

"_Mr. Kinney, this is Doctor Phillips from Allegany Hospital. When you left here today, neither you nor Mr. Taylor managed to book your next radiation appointment. I understand you were probably more concerned about getting home and resting, but you really must take responsibility for your making your own appointments. Anyway, I took the liberty of creating one myself in your absence. I expect to see you and Mr. Taylor at 13:45, Thursday 27__th__. Have a good day._"

* * *

><p>"I still don't see why you insisted why we stop by Kinnetic on the way home," Justin complained, "I mean, you scared everyone half to death – something you look like by the way."<p>

Brian huffed. "Why thank you Justin, at least I look how I feel."

Justin helped to carry his stubborn partner into the loft. They had gone to Brian's third radiation treatment that morning, leaving the man sick, tired and in pain. Still, he had insisted they stop by his business on the way back to pick up the progress reports he had review and the accounts he had to sign for. Even in the state he was, he refused to let the company to suffer. With all the excess effort and energy the man had used to get around the office like nothing was wrong, Brian was left worse than ever, to the point where it was essential for Justin to help him get around. A part of the blond felt that he should suffer for trying to fight how his body was feeling, for not listening to him when he told him it could wait for a few more days, but most of him was sympathic to the man's need to continue like the boss he was, especially when everything was changing around him. That didn't stop him from complaining readily about what he had done though.

"Well then maybe next time you'll listen to me, but that's unlikely," Justin retorted. He nudged his nose along the shell of the man's ear, "Let's get you into bed so you can try and get some sleep. You can run through those reports when you can stand up by yourself."

Brian grunted his agreement.

"Why can't he stand up by himself then?"

Justin looked away from the brunet to his creative partner in surprise. He hadn't even noticed the older man was sitting there when they had entered, although he was a little busy at the time. "Michael," he greeted, keeping a tight hold on Brian even though he tried to pull away, too weak for that to have any effect. He continued to lead the man towards his bedroom. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was here to try and get you to agree to go to LA but now I'm wondering why I wasn't told that my best friend had fucking cancer!" he snapped angrily.

"And how exactly do you know that?" Justin questioned through slightly gritted teeth and wondered whether Ted had told the comic loving man, although he pretty much doubted it. He pulled back the covers on the replacement bed he had found and gently laid his partner on the soft mattress. He relaxed into the comfort insistently, keeping his eyes closed. Justin was sure it was from a mixture of illness and not wanting to face Michael at the moment with his minimum strength.

From outside the room, the voice of Doctor Phillips echoed the empty apartment. His eyes narrowed slightly as Michael appeared in the doorway.

"…_from Allegany Hospital. When you left here today, neither you nor Mr. Taylor managed to book your next radiation appointment…"_

"I had to learn it from the fucking answering machine!"

"Why the fuck were you listening to our answering machine?" Brian croaked out tiredly, cracking one eye open.

Michael, at least, had enough sense to look sheepish. "I didn't mean to. I thought it was the message I'd left – you don't normal get voicemails – and thought I'd listen to how I sounded." He sighed, "Why didn't you tell me? I deserve to know!"

"You don't _deserve_ to know anything," Justin retorted, standing up straight and stomping his way over to the slightly taller man, "This has _nothing_ to you and _everything_ to do with Brian. If he wanted to tell you, he would have fucking done it in the first place, but the fact is he didn't want _anyone_ to know, so he didn't have to go through _shit _like this!"

"Didn't want anyone to know, huh? So why the fuck did he tell you?" Michael shot back with the same force behind his words.

"Guess he needs me here," Justin answered simply. "Now, he's just gone through radiation today and this is the side effect. He's not in the right state for long, difficult conversation at the moment, so you can come back later to try and get him on your side to get me to leave for _the other side of fucking America_. I'd suggest coming back in a few days, when he might want to talk to you and is able to leave his section of the loft. Until then, we'd both appreciate it if _you kept your big mouth shut and move everything else outside the loft, understand?_"

The two stared each other down for a moment, neither wanting to back down. Finally, Michael huffed angrily and shot him a glare. He glanced over the blond's shoulder to declare that he would come back in a few days to see how he was doing, before sweeping out of the loft. The steel door shook violently as it closed behind him.

Justin sighed, feeling all the emotion drain from his body to replace his tiredness, and his shoulders dropped slightly. Dragging his feet across the floorboards, he quickly rid a helpless Brian of his clothes, leaving him in his boxers to be more comfortable, before stripping himself to the same state. He then curled up next to the brunet, keeping his arms tight around him as he nuzzled his bare chest. Brian rolled slightly towards the blond but had no energy to do anything else.

"Sorry Brian, I know he's your friend, but that doesn't mean he has the right to invade your privacy and demand from you like that," Justin whispered meaningfully. _I won't let anyone hurt you, especially when you're not able to help yourself…_

* * *

><p>As promised, three days later Michael turned up at the loft. He knocked his time and when Justin answered the door, he seemed subdued and embarrassed. He offered the blond a weak smile but didn't say anything. Justin mimicked the action. He watched as Michael glanced towards Brian, who was sitting on crossed legs on the white sofa and staring avidly at the television screen. To Justin, it was obvious that the man wasn't actually paying any attention to what he could see and was merely pretending he wasn't concentrating solely on the actions of the two men behind him.<p>

As much as Justin wanted to kick Michael out of the loft again – he hadn't quite forgiven him just yet – he knew that Brian needed his best friend, now of all times, so he didn't try to stop him. Instead, he gestured him towards his friend, silently encouraging him. Michael offered him a thankful smile before slowly making his way over, carefully sitting at the other end of the sofa.

From where he was sitting at the breakfast bar, Justin could see the slight smiles that crossed the strange friend's faces as they came to a silent agreement through one quick glance. He lowered his gaze back to his sketch book, hiding the smile that threatened to cross over his face. Oh yes, they were both completely hopeless, but why have them any other way?


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

_He shouldn't have to stay here_, Brian decided. He was lying on the mattress, wide awake despite the early hour of the morning, as he stared down at the blond body that was happily slumped in sleep against him and just thought. Thought about everything that happened over the last few weeks; thought about how he was eternally grateful that Justin had stayed with him, through all his bullshit although he didn't quite know why; and, probably most of all, what Mikey had told him the day before.

Justin had left the loft to go food shopping again and subtly give the two best friends time to talk, considering the tension between them. It had started off easy as could be, talking about the comic book shop and about the cancer treatments, and then Michael brought up the attention that Rage was currently receiving. To be honest, the thought hadn't occurred to Brian that Justin was giving anything _so important _up to be with him until that moment. Getting Rage made into a film, just the prospect of it, was probably a once in a lifetime experience – how could Justin possibly refuse that?

But he had, due to some twisted sense of duty to him. No, Justin deserved to go, to have the time of his life and fuck his way through the population of gay men. He was young, he needs those experiences. Brian brushed some of the blond hair away from his face and watched as Justin unconsciously snuggled closer to the palm of his hand, a small contented smile coming to his face that showed he was having good dreams. Brian let a smile come to his face without realising. Though he would never admit it, he was glad the blond was there with him, completely unguarded as he was. It was refreshing and a completely new feeling.

_You're being selfish again_, a little voice reminded him, bringing a frown to his face.

He sighed heavily, resigning himself to what he must do, and pressed a kiss to the pale skin despite his awkward position. Staring up at the white ceiling, lost in the grooves, he came to his decision.

* * *

><p>"Look Just'n, look what I drew!" Gus encouraged happily.<p>

Brian had wanted to, needed to see his son. All this talk of illness and death had put him into a tailspin that had left him waiting nothing more than to spend some time with his son, away from his mother's for once. Luckily, it seemed the munchers were feeling particularly generous that day because they agreed for Gus to stay at the loft overnight after spending a whole day with 'his daddy and his Just'n'. Lindsey had dropped the boy off just before lunch so the three had had lunch together – just basic sub sandwiches that Justin had made upon the four-year-old's request – whilst watching some Disney film that Gus had insisted they watch. Now, Brian stood back and watched as his partner and his son crouched at his expensive coffee table, both concentrating on the shapes that were forming on the calligraphy paper. They had both tried to convince him to join in but, after firmly stating that he wasn't the artistic type, he assured them he was content with letting them do the work and getting the end results. Although Justin seemed to find the whole thing amusing, Gus had gladly gone to begin his art work, stating it was for daddy.

Justin stopped what he was doing and gazed down at the child's picture. He smiled encouragingly and wrapped an arm around his small shoulders, dragging him into a hug. "Oh, that's brilliant Gussie. Well done!"

The boy grinned widely at the compliment, giggling slightly. He glanced at Brian across the room and leant up to whisper something in Justin's ear. Brian raised an eyebrow curiously, which only increased when the blond artist's smile widened and he nodded furiously. Gus wiggled out of his hold, grabbing the paper of the desk and made his way towards his father, holding the picture to his chest to conceal it. Brian watched him closely, turning on his chair to face him head on.

"What have you got there Sonny boy?"

Gus beamed and held out the picture, which he carefully took to examine. "It's you, Daddy, and me and Just'n, see?"

On the paper it was clear to see three crudely drawn people. The tallest was a brunet, in a black jacket, which he assumed to be himself. There was a blond, a head smaller than his drawn counterpart in a stripy sweatshirt (he glanced up at the blue and black jumper that the blond was currently wearing briefly) and concluded that was Justin. Between them was a much short brunet ("that's me," Gus pointed out eagerly) and they were holding hands. It was sweet, he mused. Smiling widely, he ruffled his son's hair.

"This is really good Sonny boy," he praised. He made to hand it back but Gus refused to accept it, pushing it back to him.

"It's for you Daddy," he stated.

Brian slowly withdrew his hand, gazing back down at the picture. This would be the first gift his Sonny boy had ever given him. A lump formed in his throat and he silently cursed it. He decided not to dwell on how much such a simple thing meant so much to him; it was too lesbonic for his taste. Instead, he drew the small boy into a hug, kissing the top of his head, and muttering a quick thank you. Gus happily returned the hug, burying his head in his father's chest. Justin watched father and son from a distance, smiling slightly and wishing for more moments like these in Brian's life. He knew all to well that the man didn't get enough experiences of unconditional love and affection; knew how much such a small thing would meant to him even if he wouldn't admit it.

Brian cleared his throat slightly and pulled back. "Right, what do you want to do now Sonny boy?"

Gus looked thoughtful for a moment, humming out loud. "Umm….can we go to the park?"

"Of course we can, Sonny boy," he agreed instantly. The four-year-old cheered happily before running to get his shoes that had been placed by the loft door when he arrived.

Justin frowned slightly, quickly scrambling to his feet to approach the other man. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" he whispered, not wanting to alert Gus.

Brian's eyes flashed with irritation. "Yes Justin, I'll be _okay _to go to the _fucking park_ with my _son_." The man pushed rather harshly past the blond and made his way to his bedroom, grabbing his socks from on the edge of the bed. He dropped onto the mattress and began putting them on.

Justin's eyes narrowed in retaliation and followed. He stopped at the entrance to the room and leant against the doorframe. "I was just asking. You've only just stopped vomiting, I don't want you to over exert yourself and end up worse than before."

"Well, you're not my fucking father Sunshine! I can take care of my fucking self, despite popular opinion!" he shouted out, his voice hissed and filled with untapped anger, "Now, I know this must be _difficult _for you to do but, keep out of my fucking business, okay?"

Justin didn't answer, just stared in shock and shuffled back slightly. The loft was completely silent except for Brian's heavy breathing as he struggled to reign in his temper once more. Gus hesitantly approached the bedroom, standing just a little way from the steps, and inclined his head slightly. He appeared worried.

"…Are you okay?" he questioned.

Justin turned to the small boy with a forced smile. "Yup Gus, we're okay." He assured. He turned to face Brian, who still refused to look at them, instead focusing on the bed sheets. "_Daddy's_ just feeling a little upset right now. His stomach ache is making him cranky. Why don't we go to the park together, and Daddy can join us when he decides he's ready for _company_, okay?"

Gus looked reflective for a moment, looking back and forth between his daddy and his Justin. He nodded slowly in agreement. "Don't be too long Daddy," he warned him as firmly as a child could, before moving to continue getting ready.

Brian listened to the chatter, to the footsteps against his wooden floor and the sound of ruffled clothing. He didn't move from where he was sitting, where he was looking, until he heard the loft door shut with a loud thump. He then closed his eyes, realising a sigh in an attempt to relieve the tension in his body which failed and released his hold on the black sock. He gritted his teeth and muttered a loud curse that seemed to echo around the loft, and dropped his head into his hands.

He knew what he had to do, so _why was it so fucking difficult_?

* * *

><p>"Gus is asleep," Brian stated, dropping into place on the end of the sofa.<p>

Justin, who was sitting curled on the opposite end, glanced away from the television screen and nodded in acceptance. He continued to watch the man across from him for a while longer, looking for some form of recognition that never came. He breathed out frustrated through his nose, reaching for the remote and turned the television off. He shifted his body to face the brunet head on. "Now, do you want to tell me what earlier was about?"

"I don't know what you're talking about _honey_," Brian mocked.

"Just answer the goddamn question Brian," he snapped angrily. He paused to take a calming breath and lowered his voice considerably, "I thought we already spoke about this. I want to be here, with you, helping you through this. I don't understand why you wou…"

"But that's just it." Brian started, "You shouldn't be here, in Pittsburgh. You should be in LA."

Justin tilted his head slightly in confusion. "LA? Why LA?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "I was talking to Michael, about that movie producer that wants to turn Rage into a motion picture. They need someone to go to Hollywood to help promote it. You should go and be a big fucking success. You don't need to be here with me…"

The blond released a small, breathy laugh, a smile coming to his face. "You really are a self-centred asshole, you know that Brian? Not everything is about you." When Brian looked at him with a mixture of confusion and frustration, he shuffled closer on his knees so they were pressed together slightly, "I decided not to go to LA _before _I found out about the cancer. It's a great experience, yeah, but I don't think it's the one for me. I don't really like travelled so far from home, believe it or not, and I don't like travelling on my own, without someone I'm not completely comfortable with. That one time in New York was enough for me to know I never want to do that again. Finding out about you, well, that just clinched the deal."

Brian eyed him closely, as if not sure whether to believe him or not. After all, the man was known for lying to keep him happy. "…Really?"

"Totally," Justin assured. He lifted one hand to wind in the back of his brown strands, gently encouraging his head closer so their foreheads could touch. "Now, are you going to stop acting like a fucking asshole? It would be so much easier to kiss you right now if you are."

Brian smirked slightly. "You say the most wonderful things," he stated sarcastically.

"You love it," Justin teased before finally allowing their lips to connect.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

Brian watched Debbie leave the Liberty Diner without so much as a look in his direction, and step out into the night. It was late and he had stayed at the office later than he probably should have – at least, it was later than Justin would have liked considering he was still healing. He knew Justin would be annoyed with him so he'd gone to pick up some lemon bars from the diner, knowing that the blond loved them and would not fight him as much once he got a hold of the treat. Another reason, he would admit, was to see Debbie again. Ever since his poor choice of words when Vic had died, the woman had seemed to go out of her way to ignore him. He shouldn't have been hurt by it – after all, he deserved it and she was only doing was she usually did when she was annoyed with someone within her family – but he seemed to have lost complete control of all his emotions and self-control over the past couple of weeks. He stared through the window for a moment, debating his next action. By the time he'd been handed the bag of a dozen of the sweet snack, he had made his decision. Stepping out of the diner, he sped up his step to catch up with her.

"In case you didn't notice, I was in the diner," he began sarcastically.

"I noticed," she responded flatly.

"…Walk you home?" Brian tried again.

"Nah, it's okay," Debbie refused.

"It's late," he pressed.

Annoyance flared on her face. "I've been doing it on my own for twenty years. I can take care of myself."

"And you've got a right hook to prove it," Brian added, reaching up to rub his jaw in memory of her demonstration.

"…You working late?"

"Just gotta get the job done," he shrugged.

"It used to be the only reason you'd stay up, is because _it _was still up," Debbie commented.

Brian averted his eyes slightly, back to the path. Yeah, he remembered that time too, but it was all in the past now. "A lot of things _used to be_."

"You're telling me," Debbie agreed.

Silence fell between them for a moment. In that void, Brian swallowed his pride and turned his body towards her. "I shouldn't have said what I did, about Vic."

Debbie slowed to a stop, Brian doing the same as he waited for her reply.

"You're damn right you shouldn't of. Not that you were wrong," she sniffed but whether it was from the memory of her deceased brother or because of the chilly weather, it was unclear. "He was lucky to get those extra years, but it was the way you said it. Just tossing it off, like it didn't mean a thing. His whole fucking life didn't mean a thing."

She began to walk off again, and Brian followed. He breathed out heavily through his mouth. "Yeah…I see what you mean."

"Yeah, well, why didn't you see it then?"

"…Maybe it's because I didn't know I had cancer then."

"…What?"

He could hear the confusion, the worry in her voice, and slowly turned towards her. "You're going to make me say it twice?"

"I just wanna be sure that I hear it…"

"You heard it," he assured her, abruptly cutting her off. He averted his gaze once more and waited.

"Shit…" she whispered, and he felt her rainbow mitten covered hand rise to brush his jaw in her usual comforting fashion, "Are you…"

"Alright? They think, but who the hell knows?" He began to walk again. Debbie hurried to catch up with him, grabbing onto his arm to get him to slow down. The emotion in her was clear in her tone of voice.

"Then what the fuck are you doing out at 2 o'clock in the morning?"

"Funny, that's what Justin said," he mumbled.

"And he was right," Debbie stated firmly, "You should be home, getting your rest."

"I can't sleep, keep having these dreams," he admitted.

"Well, force yourself," Debbie countered. "And make sure you eat. You eat, you hear me? You gotta keep your strength up." She began to fuss around with the collar of his jacket and the scarf he had wrapped around his neck.

Brian let her. In fact, he seemed to relish the motherly care that he got from her. It was something he had missed. "Yes mother."

"Does she know?" Debbie wondered quietly.

"So far, Justin, Michael and Theodore…now you," he listed.

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"I'm telling you."

"How come?"

"…So you'll forgive me and take pity on me." He rolled his lips and raised an eyebrow.

Debbie shook her head, muttered an insult and pulled him into a hug. It surprised Brian at first but he eventually was able to return it. Yes, he would tell Debbie because, even if he would never admit it out loud, he needed her in his life. For all intensive purposes, she was his mother, not Joan Kinney.

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><p>The two men laid close together on the bed, wearing nothing but their underwear as they rested. It was late – or early morning, in some opinion – and neither could be bothered to move for anything. They doubted even if the loft was on fire. It was one of the first times that Justin could remember where he and Brian were alone and doing something so simple that was unbelievably domestic, just talking and actually spending time together that didn't involve fucking. That was the only upside the side affects of the chemotherapy, finally, they were connecting on a personal level. That hadn't really happened before.<p>

Justin chewed on his lemon bar slowly. "So Debbie knows…well, at least that's one less person to tell…you know, the whole idea of keeping this a secret doesn't seem to be working out very well."

Brian sighed. "Nope, our family is too fucking involved in our business for secrets as big as this." He paused, "I suppose I should tell Lindsey and Emmett soon. Better they hear it from me than from Debbie."

"They won't leave you alone either way so I don't think it matters how they hear about it," Justin chuckled. He looked thoughtful for a moment, and then worried, "Um, yeah, I should have told you this before but…my mum knows." He hurried to explain, "It was when you were in hospital for the surgery and I-I was stressing out about what would happen and she called to complain about not telling her about us going to 'Ibiza'…I don't know what happened but it just slipped out, I'm sorry…"

Brian stared at Justin's worried face. He should be annoyed. He had specifically said he didn't want any one to know, but he found that he didn't care as much as he should have been, or would have been before he knew about the cancer. Now, he could only feel appreciation and understanding. The blond was going through this with him, had felt apprehension for what would happen to him and had been with him every step of the way. He would need someone to talk to about what was happening, at least to voice out his fears. Plus, from what he knew about the blond's childhood, Justin was used to telling Jennifer everything, which was why when he had come out there had been such a strain on their relationship.

"Brian?" Justin said his name softly, waiting for a reply.

A smile came to his face and he leant forward to press a chaste kiss to the surprised man's lips. "It's okay, don't worry about it," Brian whispered.

Justin raised an eyebrow, as if not quiet believing him, and stayed silent. Brian continued to watch him, feeling a sudden sentimentalness that he had never experienced before. Brian hadn't wanted to go through his alone. He had needed the reassurance from the blond just to know that everything would be okay, even if it all seemed so hopeless at that moment in time. The blond had given it to him, even though he was just as scared at the outcome as he was. And it was because he loved him. Despite what everyone else had told him, no matter what he had done, Justin was always there with him. Even when he had left with the fiddler, he was still there to help when he needed it. The blond was probably the best thing that had happened to him in a while, except for his son of course, but he doubted he would ever admit it. He had never been able to admit if he truly loved someone. In fact, he was not sure he had even felt something as strong as he currently felt before. He could of, but he never let himself feel that way about anyone. Then Justin showed up and wiggled his way past the barb wire he had carefully positioned around his heart.

To be honest, Brian couldn't have been happier about it.

He had meant to say it out loud. It was just a passing idea that would probably need much more thought than it was given, but before he had the change, the four words had escaped him:

"Will you marry me?"

Silence fell between them. Justin sat up slightly and gazed down at the brunet, shocked and confused and just a little hopeful. "W-what?"

Brian stared at Justin for a moment, before rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "…if I pass my health check, I want to marry you…" he admitted.

"…Are you…sure?" he questioned.

"I've never been surer," Brian found himself saying, "This whole experience has given me a new view on life. I don't want to lose you. I want something stable and secure, and if that means we get married and start a family then I want to do that, with you, if you want…"

He glanced at Justin out of the corner of his eye briefly and could see the indecision on his face. Slowly, he felt himself begin to close off like before. "You know what, fucking forget it. Don't worry. It was a stupid thing to say…"

"Yes," Justin cut him off meekly.

Brian turned to face him. "Huh?"

"Yes," he repeated a small smile on his face.

"Yes what?"

They shared a look, silently telling each other what they wanted to hear.

"I want to hear you say it," Brian whispered softly, emotion clear in his voice.

Justin shuffled closer to the brunet. "Yes…I will marry you, I will marry you." He grinned widely before leaning down to steal a heated kiss. His mind was spinning with the knowledge that _this was really happening_.

Relief exploded in Brian's chest and he clung to Justin's lithe body desperately. _He had said yes, he said yes…_


	10. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

The clock ticked loudly, echoing the waiting room. It seemed to swarm the room, swelling and overwhelming, synchronizing with the nervous heartbeats. The hospital walls were white, sterile. If you stared at it for long enough, it was almost as if you could sink into the pure abyss, twisting and turning until you were lost, with no concept of what was north and what was south. It was so suffocating and did nothing to keep Justin's mind off the reason why they were there in the first place.

He tapped his foot impatiently as he waited, the erratic beat seeming to keep him, for the most part, distracted for the moment. He clicked his knuckles; clenched and loosened the grip on his hand; he focused solely on his breathing. He glanced at the clock once more. Only a little time had past. He silently told himself to get a grip; that it had only been fifteen minutes, but he couldn't help it. He was so nervous. _The meeting is taking too long, that could only mean bad news_ a voice seemed to say. He tried to shake it away but it stubbornly tightened his grip, becoming louder and louder until his feeble attempts to convince himself otherwise were practically none existent.

He was lost in thought, fighting the waging war within his head. He didn't notice Brian's presence until warm hands cocooned his own, stilling them. He jerked surprised, glancing up and seeing those beautiful hazel eyes. They stared down at him, the same as ever before, but held a worryingly lack of emotion. They sparkled, yes, but they gave nothing away to how the appointment went. Justin had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that intensified with every passing second.

"…Well?" he encouraged after a long period of silence.

The bright smile that crossed that man's face was the best thing that Justin had seen in a long time, and it told him everything he needed to know.

_**FIN**_

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><p><strong><span>AN: And this is the end of When The Rain Starts To Fall. Thank you to all my reviewers, favouriters and alerters, I appreciate all the support you've given me to finish this story. A few people have asked about sequels to this story, but I'm not sure, so I would love to know if any of you want another story in the verse as well and whether or not you have any preferences/ideas. I'll look forward to the replies!**


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